Who Are You?
by dctrs
Summary: Set sometime after 1.03, In The Dark. [I guess.] Spike wakes up to find he's been kidnapped by Angel, who has lost his memories. He tries to turn Amnesiac!Angel back into the monster he once was.
1. Chapter 1

Spike couldn't move. His wrists burned every time he tugged at them, they were bound together against a hard surface.

Everything was dark, calming in an uncomfortable way. He rested his head against his shoulders and let out a defeated sigh.

Someone was pacing anxiously. _Tap tap tap tap tap, _their feet went. They stopped, Spike heard the _clink _of metal against metal and felt a sharp object press against his throat. "Who are you?" A raspy voice asked him, removing his blindfold.

His eyes were barely adjusted to the bright light and he could only make out the subtlest details of his captor, but that was more than enough. He'd know him anywhere. It was Angel.

"Did you hear me?" Spike looked at his sire in disbelief. He didn't answer, and Angel pressed the sword deeper into Spike's neck, drawing the faintest amount of blood. _He's holding a sword? _Spike noticed only then.

"It's me!" Spike coughed. "It's Spike." _It's me, it's me, it's me, it'smeit'smeit'smeit'sme, _he panicked. "Put that thing down, will you?" Angel cautiously retracted his weapon, but kept it close. "That's a stupid name." Angel said.

Spike ignored him. "You...don't remember?" He already knew the answer. Angel looked at him sadly, nodding his head. "I remember… pain. And I remember knocking you out, I don't know, I woke up and you were just _there._" He paused for a moment. "Felt like I knew you." And then silence, silence, _silence, _silence. The silence was painful for Spike and confusing for Angel, it was familar to him. Spike broke it, after a while, the only way he knew how. "Can you bloody untie me now?" He snarled.

Angel knelt down and cut through the rope binding Spike's hands and ankles.

"How do we know each other?" Angel shifted, now sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the chair Spike was in. Murder flashed in Spike's eyes, their faces covered in dirt and blood, and "_Please, don't hurt me!" _rang through his ears, along with the sound of maniacal laughter and screaming children, and, and, and, _and, and… _

"Work friends." Spike lied. Angel looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing. Spike touched his shoulder absent-mindedly. He gave Angel a look that said, "I'm going to devour you whole." Angel did not get the message.

Angel was a blank canvas, he had realized. The only memories he recalled were the mere traces of pain. (_Myfaultmyfaultmyfault, _he thought, _I hurt him. I broke him._) You can build monsters out of anything and nothing, if you twist and pull at them like clay. Agony creates a lust for the agony of others. At least, that's what happened to Drusilla. But now Angel was the clay. Spike was going to burn him, and a demon would rise from his ashes like a phoenix.

_Good plan._

"Where are we, anyway?" Neither of them knew.

"Stay with me, just for tonight?" Angel asked quietly.

"Of course." _Of course._


	2. Chapter 2

Fingers tapped impatiently on the dashboard of Spike's van.

Angel awoke screaming. His hand dragged over Spike's, a look of horror sprouted on his face. "Did I really do those things?" And Spike pulled him into a kiss, the horror straining into a surprise. He didn't push Spike away, but he didn't kiss back, either. "Yes, you did." _We did,_ he wanted to say.

Angel kissed him first this time, in a desperate way. In a o_h-god-I'm-a-terrible-person_ way. Spike knew it was working, whatever it was, it was working. _That's all the kiss was, manipulative, an angry echo of their past._

It grew hungrier and hungrier until Angel pushed him away. "I-I can't." "Yes, you can." Spike grabbed him again, kissing him until he nearly forgot what he was about to say.

Angel gave in.

Spike's hands wandered but Angel pinned his wrists down against the soft seat of the car.

His thoughts were a muddle of yes. _Yesyesyesyesyesyes._ With every other yes there was a _finally._

He missed this so much.


	3. Chapter 3

Blood was everywhere.

The inside of his van, the outside of his van. The walls of the abandoned house where it had all started. On his neck, wrists, legs, skin. On Angel's mouth, chin and fingertips.

Angel laid naked next to him on the wooden floor.

"What….?" he asked, his voice trailing off sadly. "Oh, _come on," _ Spike said, rolling over, "what's the matter with you?" He snaked his arms around Angel's stomach, resting his head in Angel's neck. "We're more than 'work friends', aren't we?" Spike laughed into his shoulders.

"You have no idea."

"_What, not even gonna ask?" "Ask what?" "Nevermind."_

…_. _

"_Look, Spike, I'm not going to lie to you. I… you are…" _

"Yes?" Spike asked, later on. "I don't think what happened last night was normal."

"Which part?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Don't play dumb."

It had been centuries since they had been intimate. (Was that the right word? Spike wasn't sure. It was animalistic, rough. Angel's fangs were still tinted with the dark red color of Spike's blood. He searched for a better alternative, but found nothing.)

He'd never admit it but the words stung like the wounds all over his body.

"It is," he managed, "for us. Used to be, anyway."

"Yeah, right."

"You loved it. The blood, the look of terror on your victim's faces…."

"And you're telling me this why, exactly?"

"Because this is who you are, Angel. A monster."

Angel refused to make eye contact. He looked down at his feet, and Spike let a smirk slip through his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Angel dreamt of terrible, terrible things.

It all happened so fast, he barely was able to focus on the images. But a sense of fear ran through him, accompanied by an odd feeling of happiness. He didn't understand.

And suddenly, there he was. Surrounded by dead bodies with a sinful smile on his face. He knew it was wrong, but really, was it? So familiar, so nice, standing there in a pool of red and skin ripped inside out.

Spike was watching him sleep.

Or maybe Spike was sleeping next to him. Angel couldn't tell, and he didn't particuarly want to, either.

"Mmm," Spike whispered into the air, "What a sight." He reveled in the image. It would be the only time he'd see Angel so terribly vulnerable, the kind where he was so _desperate _for love and knowledge. The kind of vulnerability that in all of his years he'd never seen in Angel, no matter how close they had gotten. Spike knew he'd never see it again. He knew, deep down, that this was only temporary, but it was _so beautiful, _it would haunt him every single night and yet Spike couldn't seem to care.

Angel snapped awake. Fire flashed in his eyes, and Spike understood. He held Angel close, comforting him, entwing their fingers as Angel sobbed quietly into Spike's chest.

"It's okay," he told him. "I'm here."


End file.
